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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22760275">Drawn By the Undertow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/slinden/pseuds/slinden'>slinden</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Storm King [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Child Abuse, Don't beat your kids kids, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Is this what freeform is no one will tell me and i'm confused, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Queer Themes, Toxic Relationship, everybody needs a hug, it's reylo if you squint, pure darkpilot, required reading: Storm King from chapter 11 to 27, the title of this word document is oh god oh no so that's where we are my dudes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 11:42:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22760275</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/slinden/pseuds/slinden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe Dameron just wants someone to love him. And he finds his person in the form of a damaged boy who wants to be called Kylo. A retelling of parts of Storm King, while also filling in how Poe came to be who he was in this AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Poe Dameron/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Storm King [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632175</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>if you've read Storm King then you know how this ends. This is something that has cost me sleep for far too long so read it or not. This isn't going to be my jam for future works (and is my first fic here that isn't tagged Rey/Ben so I'm in shaky waters right now) but as a companion to Storm King, I needed to put this out there. Title is from Sit Down by James and really encapsulates how two damaged teenage boys came together and how they got carried away by one another. This is essentially a work of original fiction with Star Wars names. I'm well aware of what I'm doing - and it's all wrong. Oh God Oh No is my mantra - and there are 100k words of this. Oh, and you can tell when they switch languages by the change in quotation marks.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>He woke up mostly because his stomach wouldn’t stop growling. It gurgled and seemed to scrunch up inside of him, reminding him that they hadn’t eaten dinner last night. It wasn’t like he didn’t mind. It was up to mom and dad to make sure they had food and if they didn’t, it was okay because they knew better than he did. It had been driving for a while, then loud talking. Both of his parents could talk so loud that it hurt his ears. He couldn’t cry, of course. After the sun set, dad told him to be good and that it was time to sleep. He had to be quiet. Stop whining like a baby. <em>Are you a man or a mouse</em>? </p><p>Rubbing his eyes, he tried to curl up into a smaller ball, trying to crush the gurgling in his stomach. It was always there even when he tried to ignore it. He remembered falling asleep, but not really where he was. Maybe if he closed his eyes again he’d wake up at home instead of wherever they were. This was really nowhere. It smelled like swamp more than beach. </p><p>He missed the sand and how it felt in his hands.</p><p>He’d had a dream about the beach. Memories of swimming and running free stirred in his mind. He tried to think about that instead of being hungry.</p><p>Quiet filled his ears, stinging to a dull echo. He just needed to think about something else and he’d be fine. He should think about grandma, how it was the last time that he saw her. Dad was mad the last time they left but it would always be fine. Mom would make it better. They were a family and grandma had the best hugs. She always made too much food and he could almost smell it, wafting from her open kitchen to where he sat with his cousins, watching the older boys play soccer in the grass. No one wore shoes.</p><p>But he couldn’t fall asleep again. He was too hungry and sleep was boring at that moment. How could sleep be boring?</p><p>Scratching at the mop of thick black curls, he finally pushed himself to sit up.</p><p>Yeah, he was still in their car. </p><p>Okay. </p><p>“Mom?” he called, shifting to look in the front seat. He was sure that she’d be there somehow. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered her sitting there and telling him that he would be less hungry if he just went to sleep. Her answer to everything the last few weeks, or however long it was because he didn’t know and was too dumb to figure it out, had been to go to sleep and it was getting boring. There was nothing to play with in the car and he had no one to talk to. He liked talking. He could always talk through anything. Now that he was alone, he only had himself for company and he couldn’t make the thoughts work in his head.</p><p>He never thought that camping would be this boring. The kids at preschool said that camping was fun, but now he guessed that they were lying to make it <em>sound </em>fun when really it was just driving around in the car until the car stopped and he was told to go to sleep. </p><p>Mom wasn’t there.</p><p>But dad wasn’t there either.</p><p>A bad thing and a good thing made it a nothing.</p><p>Maybe there was food somewhere in the front seat. But he wasn’t supposed to leave where he was unless someone told him to. Sucking on his thumb, he took slow breaths and tried to figure out what he should do. Dad had held him against his spot so hard that his arms still hurt when he moved. When was that? Was that today?</p><p>He didn’t care that dad would be mad. Dad was always mad, no matter what he did so he’d get what he deserved no matter what. He was too hungry and bored to stay where he was. And even if dad hurt him again, mom would make it feel better.</p><p>Climbing into the front seat of the small car, he clicked open the glove box. There were just dad’s bottles in there. There were dad’s bottles all over the floor too. Kicking at them, he smirked at the little jingle the glass made when he knocked them together. It sounded just like when mom took out the garbage at their house. </p><p>He couldn’t wait to be done camping and go back to his house and his friends. He hoped that Oliver hadn’t forgotten him and wasn’t mad that he missed hanging out with him because they had to go camping. </p><p>Scratching at his head again, and bored with the bottle game, he glanced out the window. </p><p>It was a big parking lot. It must have gone on for miles and miles, swallowed up by sunshine. It was big and black and didn’t seem to stop. But at least the sun was up now. Maybe mom was finding breakfast. Parking lots meant a store, most of the time.</p><p>His thumb still in his mouth, he tried to open the door handle. It wouldn’t budge so he had to give up and use both hands. </p><p>His hands were stronger than dad thought. Maybe he wasn’t such a mistake.</p><p>He knew he wasn’t supposed to leave the car, but if mom was out getting breakfast then maybe he should try to find her. She could probably use his help because she never did anything right. Dad was always mad because mom was such a fucking <em>bitch</em> all of the time. He didn’t really believe dad because mom was always nice to him. Maybe she was just mean to dad when he was sleeping?</p><p>The handle finally gave way and he had to use both hands to swing the door open. </p><p>Staring at the pavement, his thumb instantly snapped back in his mouth. He knew he was too <em>big </em>for it. He wasn’t a baby anymore, but it was so hard to stop doing it. Everything made more sense when he had something else to focus on. </p><p>He’d lost his shoes. He sucked harder, knowing that it was his fault his shoes were gone. </p><p>Scanning the parking lot, he spotted the Wal-Mart in the distance. It was so far away, but Wal-Mart meant McDonalds. And if there was a McDonalds, maybe mom was there. She wouldn’t go that far away. He should go and help her. He’d slept enough for now. </p><p>Hopping out of the car, he was instantly glad that it was just morning. The ground wasn’t that hot yet. That part always hurt his feet. He was so mad at himself for losing his shoes. He had more shoes at their house but they couldn’t go back there until they were done camping. </p><p>He was so done with camping but mom and dad made the decisions. Mostly dad. Dad was mad that he couldn’t get a job and blamed them. He needed to stop being a baby, losing his shoes and sucking his thumb. He needed to help more so dad wouldn’t be so mad at them all of the time, having to use all of his bottles of medicine to feel better.</p><p>It took so long to get closer to the store. The pavement was scratching his feet, but they didn’t hurt that bad. He could take it. When he finally saw other people, he pulled his thumb from his mouth and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He tried to recognize the other kids there, hoping that he’d know someone and would have someone to talk to and play with, but he didn’t see anyone who he knew from somewhere, maybe the neighbourhood. </p><p>Finding an empty table, he pulled himself up to sit down. He swung his feet, looking around until he found the door. Mom would be coming soon and he’d get to see her. That made it easier to sit alone.</p><p>“Hello,” a lady at another table said. She had a jean jacket and blonde hair. She looked like a lady that would yell at him for waiting outside her house for too long. But she was still smiling. Maybe she was okay. “How are you?”</p><p>She had two kids with her and he waved at them. She had kids so she was a mom and moms were nice. “Hi, I’m okay. I’m just waiting for mom. She’s getting breakfast.”</p><p>The lady looked nice now that he saw everything, but she also was one of those people dad complained about. But she smiled at him and he smiled back. “Is your mom doing some shopping too? Is that what’s taking so long?”</p><p>He nodded. “Yeah, she probably is. We’re camping and don’t have much stuff so maybe she’s getting it.”</p><p>“And your dad? Where is he?”</p><p>He shrugged. Dad <em>never </em>did shopping for them, only for him. “Maybe. I don’t know. He might be at work. I didn’t see him yesterday so it’s just me and mom. Maybe. I don’t know.”</p><p>“What’s your name?” The lady shifted closer and he bit his lip. She was a stranger but had kids so she couldn’t be a mean stranger. </p><p>“Poe. Poe Dameron.” He looked at the kids again. “Hi.”</p><p>They waved lightly and then whispered to each other. The girl looked older than him, but the boy was probably his age. Maybe next year they’d be at the same school. </p><p>“How old are you, Poe?”</p><p>“I’m four. Like, maybe four and a half now. I don’t know.” He was trying to ignore how the lady wasn’t eating her sandwich. It was just sitting there. A seagull could get it. “I’m really sorry mom is taking so long. I’m really hungry so maybe she’s getting a lot of food. We didn’t have dinner yesterday so she’s probably hungry too.”</p><p>The lady sighed and looked at her kids, then back at him. “Why don’t you come and sit with us while you wait? You can have my breakfast and I can go inside and look for your mom.”</p><p>Really? “Really? I’m not supposed to ask people I don’t know for help. Never ask for help. Dad told me.”</p><p>The lady shook her head. “It’s fine. Tanya and Eddie can sit with you while I go inside. Just stay right here and everything will be fine. Okay? Tanya, watch him and your brother for me, okay?”</p><p>Well, if it’s going to be fine and he could eat, then nothing could go wrong, right? He nodded and hopped from his seat. The lady helped him up next to her and slid over her food. He looked at her for a long time, glancing at the sandwich, then back at her. </p><p>“It’s really fine, Poe.” She smiled and stood. “What does your mom look like?”</p><p>“She’s got big, curly black hair. And her name is Shara. She’ll be looking for me,” he said, reaching for the breakfast in front of him and then pulling his hands back. “Are you really sure?”</p><p>She grinned and nodded. </p><p>So he started eating. The kids were talking to their mom and then she left to go inside. He was too hungry to hear what she said to them.</p><p>“Where do you go to school?” he asked, even though his mouth was full. “I’m going to be in kindergarten next year. That’s almost real school.”</p><p>The girl took a sip from her drink and shrugged, sucking long and hard on her straw. “We don’t live around here. We’re from North Carolina. We’re only here to see our grandma and grandpa.”</p><p>“Oh, okay.” They didn’t seem interested in talking so he started doing it. He’d been alone for too long without his friends. He told them about his friends from preschool and that he missed playing with them. He let them know how they’d been camping for a while now and how it was getting really boring. </p><p>The little boy frowned at him. “You don’t do camping in a <em>car</em>.”</p><p>He shook his head. “But we do. We’re just different.”</p><p>“Why don’t you have any shoes?” The girl glanced down then up.</p><p>“I lost them. I think.” He was finished eating and looked around, waiting for mom to get there. </p><p>The door opened and he felt his excitement die in an instant. The lady was coming back, but with the police. </p><p>Now he was really in trouble. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>-=-</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>At least they had juice at the police station.</p><p>And they found him new shoes. </p><p>They didn’t fit right but it was better than the reminder that he’d lost his last ones. </p><p>Another dark-skinned lady in a police uniform came to check on him as he was looking at his feet. Hopefully these ones wouldn’t end up nowhere too. </p><p>The lady sat down and touched his shoulder, reminding him to sit up straighter.</p><p>“I really like these shoes. I think my friend Oliver has shoes like these. Do I have to pay you for them?” He was still swinging his legs, hoping that the police weren’t tricking him.</p><p>The lady shook her head. It only made his back get more rigid. “No it’s fine, Poe. Now, are you sure you don’t remember your address? Or where your mom and dad work?”</p><p>He shook his head, trying to untangle her words. Why couldn’t adults ever listen? “I told you. We’re camping. You don’t <em>work </em>when you’re camping.”</p><p>She had a strange noise with her mouth and he started swinging his legs again. “But where <em>did </em>they work before you went camping?”</p><p>“Mom worked at the mall. In the drug store,” he answered, remembering how fun it had been to help mom at the store. He couldn’t take the toys out of the boxes but he could still help them play. It wasn’t nice that they were always stuck in one place. It couldn’t be that fun for them. “Dad goes sometimes to Home Depot to help build houses with his cousins. He’s good at it, I guess.”</p><p>The lady was frowning again and he knew he’d said something wrong. He had a big mouth, so he stopped it by shoving his thumb in it. He didn’t want to cry; dad would make him hurt if he cried, but the tears still came even though he didn’t want them to. His eyes were just as stupid as he was. </p><p>“Did I do something bad?” he asked, still sucking on his hand. “Is that why I’m at the police?”</p><p>“No, sweetheart,” she answered, resting her warm hand on his back. “We’re going to help you, okay? We’re going to find your mom and dad for you. Do you want anything else to eat? Maybe some chips or some chocolate?”</p><p>He wanted more to eat, but still shook his head. Even if he was hungry, he’d done something bad and couldn’t eat because of it. <em>No dinner if you’re bad, boy.</em></p><p>The thought made his lip tremble and the lady leaned over to hug him. She shouldn’t have done that. It made it hard to be serious. </p><p>He hadn’t seen his friends in so long and sleeping in the car stopped being fun a long time ago. He missed his toys and his room. Most of all, his bed. It was easier to hide from dad under there.</p><p>“Shh, it’s going to be okay,” she was whispering. Was dad there? Why did she say that? What had he done wrong that everything needed to be okay?</p><p>Now he was crying. It made him feel like he had a monster inside of him every time it happened. The monster wanted him to make dad mad and hurt him more. </p><p>He shouldn’t have left the car. Now maybe someone had taken the car. Where were they going to camp now? Wiping at his eyes, he put his head back and tried to stop the monster. </p><p>“I’m going to be right back,” the lady said, finally leaving him alone. </p><p>He tried to stop crying and managed to do it, feeling a little happy that he could manage something so hard. He was getting better at it, at least. He wiped away the last of his tears and looked around the room. It was just a little side room with a bench. He could lean his head over and see the other police, but he was alone in there. Dad said that the police didn’t help anyone, especially people like them. But at school the police there were always nice. He liked how policemen looked. The uniforms made them stand up straight, like he should too.</p><p>Wishing there was a window to look out, he huffed to himself. He leaned over and shut his eyes, not really trying to sleep but trying to make time go faster.</p><p>He woke up after a while and yawned. At least the bench was more comfortable than the car.</p><p>Somewhere, he heard mom’s voice and he jumped off the seat and called for her. </p><p>But that’s when he heard dad’s voice too and he knew how mad he was. He clamped his hands over his mouth and tried to crawl under the bench. Maybe mom would find him first. Curling up to be smaller, he tried to stop breathing. Stupid monster, stop making noises.</p><p>“No, no, it’s fine. He just wandered off from the car.” It was dad and he was getting closer. “He’s got a big imagination so don’t listen to anything he said.”</p><p>“Really, Mr. Dameron, we looked everywhere in the store for you and you weren’t there. And when we did find you…”</p><p>“We were only gone for a few minutes and we were <em>looking </em>for him.” Dad cut the lady off. “Just stay out of our business.” </p><p>He could see dad’s boots now and covered his eyes. </p><p>But dad still saw him. </p><p>«Where did you go? What did you tell them?» He could feel dad’s breath on his skin and finally pulled away his hands. He was so angry. Poe had no idea how he was going to fix this or if he even could.</p><p>«I just answered questions.» He didn’t want to start crying as he spoke, but he still did. The monster wanted him to pay for leaving the car, for being hungry, and for being so stupid. «Please don’t be mad.»</p><p>Dad reached for him and Poe tried to back away, to be smaller. The hand wasn’t harsh but still pulled him from his hiding spot. He looked up and saw mom and wanted her to hug him but dad was there in between them. </p><p>“Come on, let’s go home.” Dad turned to glare at the lady and he was being dragged along behind him. </p><p>But maybe they were really going home this time. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>-=- </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Someone was grabbing his hair, waking him up with a harsh yank. </p><p>«Do you understand how much <em>trouble </em>you’re in?» Dad put his face right next to his and shouted at him. He could always be so loud when it was quiet. It always made him want to talk more, to fill up the empty spaces before dad could.</p><p>Wincing, he tried to make words. But they wouldn’t come. The monster was eating him up. Instead he just burst into tears, too tired to figure out where he was and what he did wrong. </p><p>Dad’s hand slapped his face and it was like fire against his skin. It always hurt, but he needed it. He was a bad son. He was never doing anything right, and that’s why they went camping. The other hand in his hair tightened, forcing the sobs out harder. Pain was okay as long as he deserved it. If he did something wrong then this was what had to happen. He left the car when he shouldn’t have. </p><p>The next strike hurt more, knocking him back and pushing the air from his lungs, and he started screaming an apology, mixing languages until his dad finally tossed him against the backseat of the car. </p><p>Mom was driving, not saying anything. He couldn’t protect her from the backseat. Dad just loved them by hitting them. And he’d found them. So maybe this was love. </p><p>Instead of asking where they were going, he just curled up into a ball and tried to stop crying as dad turned his anger against mom. The walls of shouting in Spanish made him look at his shoes, remembering how he couldn’t lose these ones. </p><p>The words that dad screamed at mom, telling her how bad she was at everything and how bad her son was, burnt in his mind.</p><p>The monster was fed and, inside him, it quietly hoped that they would crash so he wouldn’t be real anymore.</p><p>-=-</p><p>He thought he could hide but he couldn’t.</p><p>The mean people took him away.</p><p>Away from mom.</p><p>And he had to go live somewhere else.</p><p>How could he fix his tears now that he was just a mouse?</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Mom took him to the beach for his sixth birthday. There was a bit of a chill in the air and he didn’t want to go swimming, but mom wanted to take him somewhere special so he could only be with her. The wind whipped up her dark hair and he watched how she looked at the ocean. She was almost happy again. There were no marks on her face but she was tired. Still, she was the most beautiful woman in the world because she was his mom.</p><p>But the social worker lady was watching them, ruining how the day was supposed to be.</p><p>He got one present at the foster home. Mrs. Ackerman got him a new coat, since his other one got stolen on the playground from school. He didn’t like the kids at school and <em>really </em>didn’t like the other foster kids. The room he shared with Tim always smelled. Tim was ten and was still wetting the bed. Then, he’d try to blame it on him. Tim would get into his bed and make it all wet and gross. And then <em>he’d </em>get in trouble for pushing him and yelling at him to stop it. </p><p>He just wanted to go back to being with mom.</p><p>“Your hair is getting long, sweet pea,” mom said, running her hands through his curls. “Maybe we should get your hair cut after this?”</p><p>He shook his head. “No, because now I look more like you mom. It’s fine. I like it. I mean, I really like it.” He wanted to keep talking but couldn’t stop looking at the sand beneath them. “Mom, want to help me dig a hole? I bet I can get really deep.”</p><p>He’d been scooping at the sand for a while, but the thought of digging a great hole made him suddenly want to ask for permission.</p><p>“Of course. Let’s dig the hole.”</p><p>“Cool.”</p><p>He scooped at the sand, cupping his hands to move it aside. Despite having the social worker lady there, he thought that maybe if he dug deep enough then him and mom could build an underground house, where dad wouldn’t find them. Mom helped hold back the sand as he finally hit the cold, wet lumps at the bottom. It was the grey, hard-packed grit that lay underneath the white and gold covering the beach. </p><p>“How’s school?” </p><p>“It sucks and I hate it. Everyone else is better at reading and I keep getting in trouble. It’s just hard with the letters, mom. Sometimes they don’t make sense,” he answered the question, still digging. The hole was getting really deep now. “And I have to share a room and can’t do my homework. My teachers are always mad at me and I try my best.”</p><p>“I’ll help you when we’re together again, I promise.” </p><p>He looked up and frowned at her. “When can I come live with you? I hate having to share a room with Tim. He smells so bad. Can I have my own room soon? Tim is really weird and won’t leave me alone. He won’t even talk to me, but he’s always looking at me and touching me. I think he hates me. Mom, should I hate him too?”</p><p>“Well, have you asked him what happened to his parents? Maybe get to know him a little better and he won’t hate you. It’s like that with some people. I know that you can do it.” She smiled at him as he sat back from his digging to wipe his hands on his pants. “I got you a present.”</p><p>“Really?” Finally, a present. A real birthday present. He hoped that they’d get cake later. Maybe if he shared some with the social worker lady, she’d let him go home to mom. </p><p>Mom was smiling bigger and reached into her bag. She pulled out a small keychain with an airplane on it. “It’s not much, but it’s something that you can hide so the other kids won’t take it.”</p><p>It wasn’t wrapped but he didn’t care. He hugged his mom and took the silver charm. “It’s great, mom! I promise I won’t lose it. I don’t <em>mean </em>to lose things all of the time. I’m trying my best.”</p><p>“I’m sure it’s not your fault.” She hugged him again. “I love you.”</p><p>It wasn’t the best birthday, but he couldn’t remember ever having a good birthday so he’d take it. Christmases were nice when they were with grandma down south. But those memories were quietly fading, taken over by smelly Tim and having to live in a strange house for the last few months. How long had it been since the police came and took him away? He wanted to ask mom but she was looking back at the ocean, her mouth making a sad line.</p><p>Mom helped him rinse off his hands and they had to go. It was more like <em>he </em>had to go because he couldn’t go with her. The social worker lady put him in the backseat of her car and he watched as she talked to mom. Mom was folding her arms, nodding a lot. He tried to play with the plane, but couldn’t stop looking at them. </p><p>He opened the door, realizing that the lady hadn’t locked it. Walking up to them, he noticed how red mom’s face was getting. The lady had said something mean to her.</p><p>“What happened?” he asked, looking at the lady. “This isn’t mom’s fault. I’m the problem. Don’t be mean to her.”</p><p>Both adults’ heads snapped in his direction. He frowned, narrowing his eyes, as the lady knelt next to him. “You’re not the problem, dear.”</p><p>“So what <em>is </em>the problem? When can I go home?” He was pouting, he knew it. If he kept his face like that, he’d get in trouble. Shaking his head, he tried to make himself look blank. “Please. I’m done being a mistake.”</p><p>The lady sucked in a breath and looked at mom. She gave her a small nod and mom reached for his hand. She pulled him into his arms and hugged him tightly. “Soon, Poe. Everything should be done by the time school is out.”</p><p>“Really? Promise?” He kept his arms around her neck, but was afraid to look at her. </p><p>“I can’t make promises right now, but I’m working really hard.” Mom’s voice sounded like she was getting sick. “I’m sorry, but you have to go back now. I’ll see you in another month.”</p><p>“But I never get to see you.” He tightened his grip. «Please, mom. I am good now. Please can I come home?»</p><p>Mom held him for another moment and then slowly knelt down, making him let go. “It was never your fault. Do you understand that?”</p><p>He didn’t believe her. It was his fault for going to school with a black eye and telling his teacher what happened. He ruined their family. Now he had to live in a strange place with toys to share that he had to share and could only watch television for an hour at night. He had to share the computer with everyone else. Mom said soon but when was soon?</p><p>Still, mom let the lady take him back to the smelly room that he had to share with weird Tim.</p><h4>-=-</h4><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong with you?” he finally asked Tim, glaring hard at him. His stomach had hurt all evening, just thinking about everything that he did wrong. </p><p>It was after lights out and he’d tried to fall asleep, but all he could still feel Tim’s green eyes on him in the darkness. They made his stomach ache even more, knowing that he’d try to do something to him. No matter what dad said, he wasn’t stupid. He had to start telling himself that and believe it.</p><p>He rolled over and glared at the other boy. “Why are you always so weird?” </p><p>Tim sat up. “You’re weird.”</p><p>“No, you’re weird. You’re ten and still piss the bed. What’s <em>wrong </em>with you?” He tightened his hands into fists and tried to burn Tim with his eyes, hoping that he’d explode. “Why do you hate me?”</p><p>Tim’s expression didn’t change. His face was always a mask. He just shook his head and turned away, lying back down in the bed. </p><p>Sighing, Poe turned away and tossed his covers over his head. He hadn’t asked about dad at all with mom that afternoon. Nobody would tell him what happened to him or where he was. Maybe he couldn’t come home until dad came back. And when that happened, he’d have to be a better son. </p><p>-=-</p><p>Someone was touching his leg. </p><p>Someone was touching his leg <em>under </em>his pyjama pants. He felt the hand inching closer to his underwear and couldn’t breathe. </p><p>Jerking back, he swung out his elbow and screamed. “What are you doing!”</p><p>He’d knocked Tim away, but he could still smell him on his bed. The green-eyed boy was holding his nose. He’d knocked him right in the face. <em>Good</em>.</p><p>“What were you trying to do to me!” He jumped up on the bed, still shouting. </p><p>The lights sprang to life and Mrs. Ackerman stood breathless in the doorway. </p><p>“Boys! What’s going on?”</p><p>“He was trying to touch me! Again! Like I said before when you didn’t believe me.” Poe’s head snapped towards her. “And he’s always trying to sleep in my bed! Make him stop!”</p><p>She looked from the older boy then back to him. He could feel his heart beating faster as her eyes told him that she wasn’t going to listen to him again. </p><h4>-=-</h4><p> </p><p>The next time he saw mom, he told her about how he was staying in the girls’ room now and Tim was alone in that room again. He liked staying with the girls; they were okay he guessed. He could make them laugh. And they had nicer toys and they were better at sharing and making up stories. Also, they thought that his hair was cute.</p><p>The time after that, they met her at an apartment building. It didn’t look like where they were living before because the grass was actually short. There was no spray paint everywhere. Then he saw how happy mom looked and knew that’s where they were going to live. </p><p>There was already a bed in his room when mom showed him. </p><p>“Can I stay here tonight?” he asked, instantly taken in by how the space was for him. It made the world start to seem right again and he didn’t want to let go of it. “Please, please, please.”</p><p>“Not tonight, but soon.” Mom smiled, but he saw the next part coming. “Why don’t you look around for a bit while I talk to Mrs. Fett.”</p><p>He nodded and spun around the room, trying to let his arms take away his anxiety. There was a bed and a closet. It was bigger than his last room, back when they lived together. There was a bookshelf with books and some of his things from their old place and their room at grandma’s in Mexico. This really was his room. He didn’t want to touch anything without asking, but peaked in the closet. There were some clothes in there, but there was enough space at the bottom to hide in. He had to do one more test and made sure that there was enough space under the bed. Crawling under it, he smiled to himself. This was perfect. This was great. </p><p>Careful to dust himself off, he wiggled back out and felt like the words were going to burst out of his chest. </p><p>But mom was talking to the lady, so he put his hands over his mouth and crept towards the door.</p><p>“...and I’ve got full-time work at the pharmacy down the block. It’s night shifts right now, but after the summer, I’ll be moved to day shift so I’ll be home for him. The woman next door has a son his age so we’ve already agreed on shared childcare. My cousin and sister also live nearby.” Mom sounded so serious. But she had a new job. That’s why she was smiling more. </p><p>“So your husband is out of the picture entirely?” He could hear the lady scribbling down what mom was saying on her stupid notepad. “Have you filed for divorce?”</p><p>Mom sighed, one of those deep and long ones like she saved up all of her air for it. “If I could find him, I would. I’ve checked with all of his relatives. Even Poe’s grandparents haven’t heard from him.”</p><p>“And you’re sure he’s out of jail?”</p><p>“I called and they confirmed, yes. It would have been nice to get that information from you guys but I did check so...”</p><p>He started sucking on his thumb again, trying to be quiet so he could keep listening. </p><p>“There are still a few more things that you need to do, but I think that there won’t be any further problems. The system is always overwhelmed, so we really want to send him back to somewhere stable.” The lady always sounded serious and he bit himself at her tone. “There will still be monthly visits from us for six months. But you’ve completed all of the courses and done everything. In two weeks…”</p><p>“Two weeks!” he opened the door, knocking it with his hand as he yanked it from his mouth. “That’s so long! Why can’t I come live here now? I’m already here.”</p><p>Even though he liked joking and playing with the girls, he had to share everything. No one hit him, but Tim was always staring at him, hating him, planning to touch him again. </p><p>“It will just take a little more time.” Mom had crossed her arms. “I know that you can do it.”</p><p>He didn’t understand why she believed in him. He couldn’t do anything right.</p><h4>-=-</h4><p> </p><p>Two weeks turned out to be a month. He knew that because he made sure to write down how many days it had been. No one could read his writing so they weren’t going to stop him. </p><p>But he could finally, <em>finally</em>, go to be with mom. No more smelly Tim staring at him, trying to touch him and just being <em>weird</em>. It also meant another thing: he wasn’t a problem anymore. </p><p>When he was packing his things, though, he couldn’t find the keychain. </p><p>He looked everywhere and it was gone. He <em>knew </em>that Tim had taken it but there was no way he was going into that room again. It made him sick just to stand outside the door; his stomach would feel upset and he couldn’t make himself go inside. </p><p>Even when mom was smiling and showing him around the building, the courtyard and office and the mailbox, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He tried to be happy only because mom wanted him to be that way.</p><p>Mom was making dinner and he was sitting at their new kitchen table and all he could think about was how much trouble he was going to get into when she found out. Her soup smelled good and he wanted to eat it. It had been so long since he’d had mom’s food. But maybe he didn’t deserve to eat it.</p><p>“Are you okay?” mom asked, shifting to look at him. He was making her worried. He shouldn’t be so nervous, but he was. “You’re home now. And we’re safe.”</p><p>He dropped his head, scratching at his hair. “I lost the present you gave me.”</p><p>Mom turned from the stove and just smiled at him. “That’s not a big deal. We can go shopping tomorrow and you can pick out something better. It was just a trinket.”</p><p>“Really?” He sat up. “Can I get anything that I want? Like, something just for me?”</p><p>“Well,” mom looked back at the stove, but was still smiling, to check the food, “maybe not <em>anything</em> but something nice. So you feel more at home. We’re going to be happy here, Poe. Just you and me.”</p><p>“What about dad?” He didn’t want to ask it. But his stupid mouth kept making words when his head was already done.</p><p>Mom kept her eyes on dinner. “I don’t know.”</p><p>Silences always made him uncomfortable. If he didn’t say something, then he’d have to hear bad news. </p><p>“Are we still a family?” It was his fault that dad wasn’t coming back. He’d messed something up. “What did I do wrong?”</p><p>“You’re being silly now. We’re still a family.”</p><p>Even as he ate dinner, and it was really good and wasn’t the bland casseroles that Mrs. Ackerman made, he still tried to understand what had happened and where dad was. </p><p>But he had a room of his own with two places to hide. And there were dozens of other places in the yard to hide too. He spotted several of them just on their walk. </p><p>Mom sat with him in his bed, his <em>own </em>bed without smelly Tim and his evil hands, and read to him. She helped him sound out the words so he wasn’t frustrated with them. Maybe dad wasn’t coming back because he was a bad reader. That’s what his teacher had told him. He had to be better next year at school. If he was a better reader, then they’d be a real family again and the kids at school wouldn’t tease him anymore.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>That summer was the first one that he could remember feeling really happy without being around grandma. </p><p>He didn’t understand the feeling at first. </p><p>He was without her hugs and encouraging words to keep trying whenever he’d stumble and couldn't keep up with the bigger cousins. She’d make sure he found a thing every day that he could feel good or great about. He could count higher than the others, she’d remind him. He could smile in a certain way to get a free piece of fruit from a vendor. Those summers from before he could remember but still held fantasies about were all about feeling great: not just good, great. </p><p>But this was like feeling okay in the beginning.</p><p>And then he thought there was something wrong with him.</p><p>He had his room, his toys, and he had a new best friend. He’d have sleepovers with Leo next door and they would talk all night about everything. He’d talk about his imaginary world, the one that he was always building in the backyard. There was a spaceship there that him and mom could fly away on if dad or the bad people came back. Leo made him promise that he’d show him and he did. He could watch television and videos online at Leo’s. They could play games on Leo’s tablet until the battery died; he couldn’t keep his brain from always thinking about all of the things that Leo had. During the days, they would play in the yard, making up games with his spaceship. He was starting to feel good at making up nonsense and not getting yelled at about what he was thinking and doing. </p><p>Mom didn’t care when his clothes were dirty. The first time it happened, he tried to hide them. But she found them and said that it was fine.</p><p>He’d watch her do laundry and kick his feet on the machines downstairs, not afraid of being told to stop. Maybe he didn’t need grandma to tell him when to feel good.</p><p>And he hoped that it could go on like this forever.</p><p>They’d go to the beach and go swimming on the really hot days. And he had real swimming trunks now. Mom would tan in the sun and he’d flick cold water on her until she laughed and came swimming with him and his friends. He’d get ice cream — not every time, but most of the time. Just wandering down the sand and looking was enough most of the time. </p><p>Leo’s cousins came over for two weeks and they spent every day together. Henry was their age, but Paul was a little older. With Paul, they could walk to the corner store to buy drinks or chips or candy. They’d eat their treats in the courtyard of the apartment building, talking about what they were going to do the next day. By the time the cousins went home, he knew that they were his friends too. </p><p>He didn’t suck his thumb the entire summer.</p><p>But sometimes, he could hear mom cry at night. When he did, he went and slept in her bed. He didn’t want her to be sad because they weren’t a real family anymore. She’d hug him and let him play with her hair until they both fell asleep. </p><p>Mom worked a lot. As the months passed, filled with sunshine and playground visits, he saw her getting happier too. </p><p>Maybe it was okay to be in a family with two people, especially if was just him and her.</p><p> </p><p>-=-</p><p> </p><p>He was scratching at his arms, not believing what he saw on the test. Okay, it wasn’t a real test. It was more like homework but it still felt like a test when he was doing it at home. He waited at his desk until everyone else was gone until he got the nerve to ask about it. Most of the time he wouldn’t care what he said and did in class; if he got a bad mark, he could laugh and joke it off. But this felt serious. He didn’t want anyone to see. </p><p>“Miss Diaz?” He felt so stupid going up to his teacher, but he was also afraid that there was an actual mistake. He’d make her feel bad too.</p><p>“Yes, Poe?” She looked up and frowned. She glanced at the clock. “You’re going to miss your bus, what are you still doing here?”</p><p>He shrugged and bit his lip. “Did I really get 100%?”</p><p>She smiled, her pink lips almost touching her eyes. “On your math? Yes! Didn’t you see the star? You did a really good job.”</p><p>“You could,” he swallowed, “read what I wrote?”</p><p>“Numbers are easy for you, right? We’ll keep working on your printing, but you did a really good job.” Miss Diaz’s brown eyes sparkled at him and he stood up a little straighter. “Now get your things and I’ll take you to the bus.”</p><p>He couldn’t wait to show mom. Even as he sat on the bus, he wanted to look at the test again. But he didn’t take it out of his bag. He sat right behind the driver. He got off only after a couple of stops so he hoped he could get through today without anyone bugging him about his hair.</p><p>It was so long now. Mom didn’t want him to cut it either. It made him happy if she was happy.</p><p>“Bye, thanks!” he called to the driver, hopping off at his stop. Mom would be so happy to see this. He still had to get better at everything else but math, <em> math </em>; he was good at something and didn’t have to try that hard at it.</p><p>Running up the stairs, he imagined how many hugs he would get.</p><p>«Mom, mom, look at my test I got…» He opened the door in a rush, but the rest of what he had to say was swallowed up when he saw who was sitting at the kitchen table. </p><p>Dad stood up. «Hello, boy. What do you have?»</p><p>He swallowed, closing the door with a stiff hand. His stomach tightened and he had a hard time finding his voice without a stutter. «My math test. I got perfect.»</p><p>His hands wouldn’t work as dad stood up and reached for the paper. </p><p>But then dad smiled. «Look at that! Fantastic!»</p><p>Poe shuffled his feet, nodding. “Where’s mom?”</p><p>Dad was standing up straight, looking down at him with strange eyes. He’d shaved. His dark hair and skin weren’t dirty. “She’s still at work. So I’m here to take care of you until she gets home.”</p><p>He looked down at his shoes again. “Okay.”</p><p>“Did you miss me?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>«What?»</p><p>«Yes, father.»</p><p>He finally looked up, expecting the worst. Instead, dad just smiled.</p><p>“Come on, I got you a present.”</p><p>He slipped off his shoes and felt a spark in his chest. </p><p>Dad reached out his hand. And he took it.</p><p>Sitting on his bed was a laptop, still in the box.</p><p>He was too excited to ask if he’d stolen it or not.</p><p>“Really?” </p><p>Dad nodded. </p><p>And he couldn’t wait to show mom.</p><p>They ate dinner together. As a family.</p><p>Poe had done it. And the test was sitting on the fridge, pinned there and proving that he’d made everything good again.</p><p>-=-</p><p>For a few months, everything was like he wanted it to be. </p><p>Dad had a job, a real job. He worked during the day, and so did mom. He never had to hide and it was amazing. He stopped thinking about his spaceship because it only had two seats. He might have to dream up a new one soon. </p><p>Dad made them go to church and he did his best to sit still but it was so boring. The only thing he could stare at the cross and try to figure out what it all meant. Grandma had told him once but he’d forgot. He’d have to call and ask her soon. How did that guy end up there? Was God real? Did God really love him? If God loved people, then why were things so bad sometimes? Like, why did Jesus have to die? Grandma would know; grandma knew Jesus better than dad. </p><p>He went to school and like everything wasn’t as hard, as if he didn’t need to try. It just happened. Miss Diaz told him how much better he was at printing, writing, and spelling. And he was still good at math and in the computer lab. He could do it so easily in his head. It just made sense. Sometimes letters still got jumbled, but numbers were always right. </p><p>Mom and dad were happy. He saw them hug and how mom had stopped crying. The curtains were opened now, letting the sun in. His bed was always made. </p><p>He’d fixed it. He hadn’t put his thumb in his mouth in months. </p><p>They’d dance after dinner sometimes, listening to music. They’d let him dance with them too. </p><p>Dad would pick him up and he could laugh and smile with them as mom’s hair swirled into his hands. </p><p>There was so much to eat and he wanted nothing to go wrong because smiling felt right for everyone.</p><p>When he’d stand in the doorway of mom’s room, when dad was there, he’d touch the edge of the bed.</p><p>And dad would sit up, his dark eyes clearing, opening his arms for him.</p><p>They were a real family.</p><p>He slept so much better those nights and he didn’t even need a nightmare to come to the bed. Nightmares didn’t seem real anymore. If he had one, he could hug a stuffed animal. Sometimes Tim would be in his dark dreams, slithering on the floor like a snake. But now that he was stronger he could just stomp on him if it turned out to be real. </p><p>The only times when dad wasn’t there were when the social worker came, but she was just nosey. Dad said that she was just getting in their way and she was; she was white and didn’t get them. He didn’t really get the difference because he didn’t see anything different at school. Kids were just kids. People were just people. But he did kind of think, maybe, that dad was right about the nosey thing. She was always writing things down, looking at his room and his report cards. They were good enough for mom and dad but not her. She wanted him to talk to the school counsellor more, maybe about his bad dreams. And she didn’t like how his hair was too long. Well, at least it was clean, he always wanted to snap at her. He wasn’t a dirty kid. Maybe dad was right and he was different because otherwise why was this lady so mean to him, trying to tell him what to do. </p><p>He couldn’t say anything about dad being back, even though they were happy. Maybe that’s why the kids at school were different: they didn’t have to lie about some woman trying to ruin his life.</p><p>Then she finally stopped coming.</p><p>Maybe his grades were okay even though he wasn’t normal.</p><p>He couldn’t go to Halloween with Leo. They’d have their day the next day and go see dad’s family. He really wanted to be out with Leo, but dad said that they should stay and watch movies instead. It was okay because he could cuddle on the couch and mom didn’t look sad. He put his head on dad’s lap and his legs on mom’s. And dad would cover his eyes at the scary parts.</p><p>He didn’t want to tell him that he wasn’t really scared. </p><p>But he didn’t like his grandma and grandpa on dad’s side. He didn’t like his cousins from that family either. And he really didn’t like how their house looked more spooky than grandma’s on the day of the dead. </p><p>There were too many scary things about death. What if he really wasn’t remembered? What if mom wouldn’t be remembered? Why did he always have to look at so many dead people? </p><p>He wasn’t really scared of the dead people. </p><p>Because the hands that held him, trying to explain what it all meant, were the ones that he really feared. </p><p>But not now. </p><p>He had to keep telling himself that he wasn’t afraid of dad. He wasn’t. His hiding spaces had dust in them by now. Things were fixed; his stomachache came from something else. That’s why it was okay and he didn’t need to say anything about creepy things. </p><p>School was also easier now that he could sleep better at night. He had a new teacher who helped him with reading but <em> just </em>that. He didn’t want to be in the special class, he really didn’t. Those kids were weirder than he was and screamed all of the time even when he was nice to them. </p><p>So he figured out how to get other people to read things out to him. The letters started to make sense then until he could really do it on his own.</p><p>And then Thanksgiving just meant listening to a parade and going back to sleep. Dad was gone early the next morning to line up for something dumb. Then every kid came back to school and he had to make up a story about a big turkey and family from everywhere coming to see him.</p><p>And finally, <em> finally </em>, it was Christmas and they could go to grandma’s. Dad couldn’t come but they got to fly there. He got extra snacks because he had a nice smile. But the best part was being up in the clouds. He could see everything below him and suddenly it all felt small. There was a whole world out there but from the sky, it was tiny and wouldn’t swallow him up.</p><p>He asked grandma about God and Jesus and she said that even though it was important to her that he believed (believed in <em> what </em>, he didn’t know) he could still make up his own mind about what God meant to him. He would watch her pray and wonder if he prayed then maybe his stomach would stop hurting. </p><p>Back home, because that’s where mom said home was really, he didn’t feel sick all of the time. It was only when he thought about dad that he’d want to cry. </p><p>Sitting with his family, all of his cousins and aunts and uncles from the family that he loved, he ate too much. He sat with his cousins in grandma’s garden and farted until they couldn’t laugh anymore. He got to play on the beach. He got to do nothing. He got nice presents and couldn’t wait to show them to dad. </p><p>He hoped that there was enough space in their suitcases.</p><p> </p><p>-=-</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t want anything to change.</p><p>But it always did.</p><p>Winter was over. Spring was coming. </p><p>Hurricanes sometimes came early.</p><p>He got a new bike from dad for Christmas.</p><p>That was the first thing to go missing.</p><p>Then the computer was gone.</p><p>And then mom was crying again. </p><p>He saw dad be different, and smelled the alcohol on him when he got home from school one day. He knew what it was now. He was almost seven and could be a real person, a real man. He wasn’t a mouse.</p><p>«Why is your hair so long, are you a pansy?» Dad slurred at him as he tried to reach for his arm. He brushed it off, wanting to go to his room and be left alone. If mom wasn’t home then he could at least try to go to bed. He should have hid in the yard and slept there. It wasn’t <em> that </em>cold out. </p><p>He shook his head, trying to get out from his father’s hand. «I like it like this. Mom likes it like this.»</p><p>«No son of mine will look like this.»</p><p>Dad grabbed his hair, hard, pulling him back to make him look at him. He wanted to yell back at him that he didn’t <em> want </em>to be his son. He didn’t want to feel bad all of the time. He liked being happy and this other feeling just sucked. </p><p>And the barber shaved his head the next day as he struggled not to cry.</p><p>Mom came home and saw his hair. </p><p>And happiness ended again.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Tina stopped by his desk, grinning at him. She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear and he finally looked up at her, enjoying making her wait to get his attention. She looked cute while she shifted from side to side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on, Tee?” He smiled at her, even though he really wanted to be left alone. He was doing his best to hide how much his arm hurt. His writing was even more messy and had been since he got between mom and dad two weeks ago. He blocked dad’s fist with his arms and yelled at him to stop. But he didn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” she said, giggling. She looked around the room and then leaned forward to whisper something to him. “We did a vote and you’re the cutest boy in class.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Really? Him? He fought back the denial that wanted to leave his mouth. Instead he shrugged and smirked at her. “Of course I am. Why even vote on it? It’s the hair, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had started off the year as the class clown until he saw how his teacher would look at him whenever he’d open his mouth. So he stopped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d rather help her than make her sad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By now, everyone had forgotten his antics but he would still help her clean up after class. He could make jokes with her, but acting out in class was dumb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tina giggled again. “Do you want to sit with me at lunch today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he was smiling, the words cut into him. “Nah, I have to go home over lunch. But what about next week? I’ll sit with you the whole week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded and quickly waved goodbye, skipping out into the hallway to the rest of her friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he dodged that bullet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did have to go home over lunch, but it wasn’t to eat. He was going home to check on mom and then would have to hurry back to school so he wouldn’t be late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to slip out of the side door to avoid being noticed. No one would really miss him since there were kids everywhere doing everything, but if someone caught him then he’d get in shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking the short cuts that he’d discovered in their months of living in the new town, he thought about why the girls would make up some silly list like that. Tina was popular and it really didn’t seem like a big lie. But it was going to get him in trouble with the other boys. Aaron and Justin were going to be jealous. He pretty much expected to get jumped when he got back to school. If his arm didn’t hurt so much, he’d have an easier time fighting back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did Tina like him? He thought about that as he cut through someone’s backyard. They always had their laundry hanging out there. He’d only stole a pair of socks </span>
  <em>
    <span>once </span>
  </em>
  <span>but that was just because he’d run out. He was going to leave a new pair one day to pay them back. Tina always smiled at him and wanted to be his partner when there was group work. She’d look at him and giggle at almost everything that he said. It wasn’t hard; he was actually funny. He guessed that she was pretty and wore nice clothes. He liked spending time with her but really didn’t understand why he didn’t like her back. It wasn’t like when he was talking with Noam. Noam was the smartest boy in class, but everyone still liked him anyways. He forgot his notebook in the library one day and Noam brought it back to him; none of the pages were ripped out either. He liked how Noam would smile when they could be partners in gym class. He wanted to be faster, to be more like him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom?” He used his key, entering their tiny house. It wasn’t an apartment; they had their own front door again with a tattered screendoor. But the house was still really small and the roof leaked. No one fixed it after the last big storm and he couldn’t figure out how to do it himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was sitting at the kitchen table even though she wasn’t supposed to be out of bed. He’d called grandma when dad left and told her how mom was feeling. They couldn’t afford to go to the hospital and the line at the free clinic was a mile long, but grandma said that mom just needed to rest until her headache went away. He hoped that dad would stay longer for work so mom would feel better before he got back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew you were coming so I made you lunch.” Mom tried to smile, but he could still see how the rings under her eyes looked deeper. Her skin was still pale and her hair looked dirty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowned at the sandwich, waiting for him on the table. “You’re supposed to be resting. So your head feels better. Come on, mom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “I’m doing a lot better today, Poe. Really. Come and eat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he wasn’t happy with her, he was starving and couldn’t turn down having something that she’d made for him. She’d even been shopping. He was supposed to do that for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I applied for a new job when I was out. They’re looking for someone at the Wal-Mart.” She got up and winced suddenly, then kept going to get him something to drink. He hopped off his chair to help her, instantly reaching for her arm. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re not.” He was so tired of this. Dad would be gone for two weeks for work. Then he’d come home and things would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay </span>
  </em>
  <span>for a week. Then, when his paycheque came in, he’d start drinking and harass them for everything that they did. He was ten now and </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he wasn’t doing anything wrong even though it felt like it. He was going to school. He was helping mom. He’d help the old neighbour ladies down the street, either carrying their groceries or helping them walk to the laundrymat. He wasn’t getting paid that much but he was doing as much as he could. He had more friends here than he’d ever had before, but they could never come to his house because he never knew when dad would just show up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She still poured him a glass of juice. “Finish your lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched her as he ate the last of the sandwich. Her eyes kept drifting shut and he saw how she’d suck in a breath when she’d turn her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My arm still hurts,” he admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you tell the school nurse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was going to, but then I saw my friend was there and I didn’t want anyone to know so I kind of didn’t. But if no one is there today, I’ll go. I’ll just tell her that I fell. But mom, what if they want to send me to the hospital? I don’t want to go there.” He kept talking even after he checked the clock and realized that he was going to be late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom sighed. “If she does, we’ll take care of it. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, mom.” He didn’t want to leave her, but still took his plate and glass to the sink. There were still dishes there from yesterday and the day before. He didn’t want to do them but he’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>have to </span>
  </em>
  <span>tonight. “I have to go. Bye, I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled him into a half hug and he had to run most of the way back to school. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was five minutes late, but his teacher didn’t seem to notice. Maybe she appreciated the quiet for once.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wished he could figure out what was wrong with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should be used to being teased for the hundreds of weird things that he did. He mainly hung out with girls; well, that’s where the gossip was and if he was friends with them, then they couldn’t talk behind his back. He didn’t have nice clothes; well, so what? At least they were clean since he’d figured out that one of the machines at the laundromat would work for free if he jimmied the coin slot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it all felt worse when he realized that he was in love with Noam.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d stuck around for too long. They’d almost been there for two years now. Mom’s job was good and the work that dad got driving the dump truck kept him busy. He should be happy that things were calmer at home. He had more freedom to do what he wanted; showering wasn’t something that he’d have to sneak around and do. The lady down the block had a plumber over one day and he asked how much it cost to fix their shower. She paid the plumber </span>
  <em>
    <span>for </span>
  </em>
  <span>him and he worked extra hard to help her to make it up to her. Free time always meant feeling guilty but he could get over it eventually.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And most of that involved biking the long way home from school, hoping to run into Noam. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was tall and smart. He never said anything bad about anyone. He was always helping out everyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he wasn’t his friend. He caught him staring at him once and the look in boy’s blue eyes made him unable to focus the rest of the day. He was too numb to even volunteer helping his teacher clean up the room at the end of the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to be in love, he just had to be. Every time he looked at Noam, his skin would tingle. Every time he’d stand close to him, he felt his heart racing. It wasn’t just a crush. This was taking up so many of his thoughts that he had trouble sleeping. He’d dream about him and wake up hard and afraid of his own body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad hated queers. He’d rant about seeing anyone holding hands or, God forbid, kissing anyone else of the same sex. It was against God and nature. It was wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God was giving him more reasons to hate his worthless son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made everything seem black and empty. Loneliness grew from a pinprick in the back of his mind into a black hole that wanted to gobble him up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting up and going to school, snagging a free breakfast when he could, he’d be reminded of why his feelings were so horrible. The girls noticed he wasn’t smiling as much and tried to cheer him up, giving him candy at lunch until he finally grinned and made a joke. They’d laugh and he’d chuckle with them but it felt so fake. It was hard to wake up and not know who he was or why he was feeling so </span>
  <em>
    <span>empty</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Was this why dad hated queers? Because they felt bad all of the time?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d have to hide his tears at night. He’d bury his face in his pillow and have to turn it over to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to look nice to go to school felt pointless. Noam wouldn’t look at him anyway and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>want him to look at him either. Biking by his house became a routine that he’d carry out just to make himself feel worse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t feel like doing his homework. He was just going to mess it up anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom would ask what’s wrong all of the time. She’d sit with him on his bed and stroke his hair, trying to get him to open up. Now he was making mom sad. She didn’t need that. She was working so hard to keep them together and he was just going to tear it into pieces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started faking more smiles and hiding more tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until one day he just couldn’t keep it inside anymore. It hurt too much and he felt like he was lying and he couldn’t lie to mom. Was he wrong? Could she fix him if he told her? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He told mom when they were alone, how he was 99.9 percent sure that he was gay. He was waiting for her to cry, to scream at him that he was garbage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she didn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hugged him and told him he wasn’t wrong in any way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just don’t tell dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dr Casterfo? Or is it Mr Casterfo? Um, sir?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was standing in the doorway of the school counselor's office, running his hand through his hair. It had taken him fifteen minutes to finally step towards the door and knock. Well, now he was there. So he had to talk to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The handsome, blond man sat back in his desk and smiled at them. “Hello, Mr Dameron. What can I help you with today? And I’m fine with Ransolm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard from another student that you have an after school group for…” he trailed off and then spat out the last few words in a rush, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>agroupforgaykids</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Casterfo, because there was no way he was calling him by his first name, just smiled at him. “It’s not just a group, I’d say. It’s more like a family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached into his desk, taking out a pamphlet. It didn’t look like the most helpful thing he’d ever seen but it was something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re more than welcome to join us,” he said, handing him the red and yellow paper. It felt flimsy in his hands as he considered where he could hide it so dad wouldn’t find it. Probably the sock drawer. “There’s also several helplines there if you don’t feel...open...enough to meet with other students from the school. But we’re all very friendly here and no one will judge you if you come or not. But I hope things are well with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When do you meet?” He looked at the anonymous looking pamphlet, expecting it to be plastered with rainbows when he flipped the pages. Instead it was more low key. He could actually have this in his house. He wouldn’t have to hide it at school. Okay, well he could have it but he’d still need to stash it somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wednesdays. In the student lounge at 7 pm.” Dr Casterfo was looking at him with hopeful eyes. “But if you don’t feel comfortable, my door is always open.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded. “Kay, I’ll be there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t feel like he turned and ran. It wasn’t being a coward. It was just trying not to say something stupid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now he needed to make up some after-school activity that could cover where and what he was doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Ezra.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom and dad were talking in the kitchen. He’d heard her answer the phone and then quickly whisper her replied before turning to his father. Peaking around the corner, he saw the tears in her eyes and realized that his cousin must have done something really bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or he was dead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” He’d been feeling better lately, more open and secure. But the look on mom’s face told him that something bad had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” mom said, handing the phone to dad. “Talk to your sister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom had control and he was thrilled to watch her boss around dad. But how she was holding his arm made it hard to make the feeling stick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your cousin did something. And you need to know that we still love him.” Mom took him to his room and sat down beside him. He frowned, confused. He liked Ezra. He was the most normal of dad’s family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean mom?” He could still hear dad talking in the distance, arguing with his aunt. He didn’t even like that aunt but he liked Ezra. Was he supposed to love him? “Did he kill people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom quietly gathered him up into her arms. He was thirteen and shouldn’t need to cuddle with his mom so much but he could feel how she was breathing, how serious dad sounded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were they in trouble?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slowly told him how she didn’t know what had happened, but he’d been arrested. He was allowed to look up what had happened, but she would rather that he ask her than reading something mean and wrong. She was going to try to help dad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded and asked if she could sleep in his bed that night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course she couldn’t, even if he was scared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t sleep that night and couldn’t stop thinking about what Ezra must have done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he found out, he needed to really decide if he cared about him or not.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Poe was eating cereal and reading the magazine that he’d stolen from the library with the television playing in the background. It was a rare day of just wanting to waste time and enjoy it. He was old enough now and could do whatever he wanted. No guilt, he told himself; he wouldn’t feel bad about doing something just for himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d bought the cereal and milk himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was happy to be alone for the afternoon; he almost felt less awful and could breathe since talking with mom about how he felt and who he was inside and that was almost a year ago. Mom would always love him, even if he was gay. And Jesus wouldn’t hate him either, but he didn’t give two shits about Jesus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The group at school helped more than he’d ever thought. Everyone there was confused to varying degrees but Dr Casterfo helped it make sense. Love was for everyone, not just people who claimed to own it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The evenings he’d spend talking about his feelings also taught him that he needed to be a better listener too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>About the only thing he didn’t talk about was how much he feared his father. The twisted way that he would remember everything would make his jaw ache from thinking about it. Why couldn’t he forget the terrible things and remember the good things? Good things had to have happened to him in his life, right? Mom would try to tell him what he did was out of love too but that made no fucking sense. Her eyes weren’t hers when she talked about him. No matter what happened, he’d get them away from his father. He’d save his money and show mom that she deserved better than what her heart was telling her to do. It wasn’t her head talking; it was what his dad had done to her heart that made her another person. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d ditched school to spend time doing nothing for a change. Not thinking. Just reading and trying to solve some programming problem in his head. The laptop he bought for cheap from the school was still a work in process, but rebuilding it from other scraps made him feel confident that he’d found something he’d be good at for a while. It felt better than agonizing over love and life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad had taken off for however long he felt like. It could be work. Or it could be something worse. A couple of weeks ago, some shady dudes came by and asked about him. After what happened with his cousin and the driveby, Poe was really recognizing the sort of life he didn’t want for himself. He didn’t hate his cousins on dad’s side but it was a bit of a mess. The more distant they grew from them, the better he felt. And if dad was gone, it meant that he and mom could spend more time together before they went to grandma’s in Mexico for the summer, a couple of months away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would be nice to leave for a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tech program he’d been half listening to on the television cut to some breaking news thing about some serial killer in California.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grabbing the remote, he flipped the channel to ESPN. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Serial killers creeped him out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I heard that you’re moving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe was sitting alone in the computer lab, killing the final hour before the last day of school ended. He shouldn’t even be in there but the supervisor let him anyway. He just wanted to kill time to avoid going home. Everyone else was already gone. He looked up from what he was fiddling with, trying to get the program he’d been working on to finally run without crashing, to see Noam standing at the edge of the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged, trying not to get his hopes up as the blond boy moved to sit beside him. The old plastic chair creaked, making him focus on how close he was. “Mom got a job at some research thing in Connecticut. It will be good money, I guess. I don’t want to go but no one listens to me so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noam was nodding, then folded his arms. “That really sucks. When do you go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sitting too close. Noam leaned in even more and he could feel their legs almost touching. Swallowing, he tried to find a way so that his voice wouldn’t squeak when he replied. “Couple of weeks, maybe less. I don’t know. We need to pack up and make the drive. And my dad is being such a dick right now that I’m going kind of nuts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noam nodded and bit his lip. “We were thinking of hanging out tonight, me and the other guys from our study group. Can you come?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d only been allowed to get into the study group because of his math grade and the fact that he could fix the problems with their laptops. He was also popular with the girls and that kept the other guys curious about who liked who. But the tech stuff was something that he could actually help them with. It was mostly installing proper blockers for all of the porn those idiots were watching. He’d been hanging out with Noam and his friends after school, helping them with formulas and ratios, but also being able to sit next to Noam as often as he could, knowing that he’d probably never see him again. The time spent watching porn made him stick his hands under his thighs and hold his breath. He had to watch the other boys' reactions for cues on why it was so hot to watch two women fingering each other. Sure their tits were nice but...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’d love to.” He finally turned towards the other boy and smiled. “Look, En, if I could, I probably can’t stay long. We are packing and it’s…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noam was looking at his mouth. That was what his eyes snapped too. He sucked in a breath and their eyes locked for a twisted second. It was brutal to anticipate something that might not come, that might never happen. Still Noam didn’t look away. He was so close. He couldn’t back away. Then Noam leaned over and put his hand on his leg. Poe took it as an invitation and broke the distance between them and kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His first kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Noam leaned into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they both pulled back, suddenly remembering that the computer lab door was open. They broke with a gasp and rapidly moved away from one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll, um, see you tonight.” The other boy quickly stood and left, but stopped to smile at him in the doorway before disappearing. “I’ll text you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly solving the coding problem didn’t seem like such a big deal anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They snuck off from the others in the basement, up to Noam’s room, leaving the laughter and music behind them. He thought that they said they were getting something to drink but the memory was blurred by the fluttering in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got a really nice house,” Poe’s mouth made him say. He was so focused on where they were going that he just had to put something out there. “Like, wow. It’s like a hotel or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, I guess.” Noam just shrugged it off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside his room, Noam shut the door. He kept his back to him for a long time before turning. “I like you.” The words came out shaky and the other boy shifted his feet and dropped his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, so why did you wait until the last day of school to say that?” Poe asked, agony spreading in his chest. He should be happy, but instead he was devastated. “Why didn’t you say something when we had time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noam kept biting his lip. “I don’t know. It was never the right time. And I didn’t know that you’d like me back, that I could even tell you. Then I saw you talking to Mr. Casterfo the other day and...I don’t know. He really only talks to kids like…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kids like us?” Poe dared to ask. “I’ve never seen you at the group.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Embarrassment spread across the pale skin of the blond boy’s cheeks. “My parents would find out. And I’m afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Reaching for his hand, Poe pulled him into a hug. His body was firm against his, making him sigh. “My mom knows. I told her. She’s got so many other problems that I think she was relieved that there was something wrong with me too. But my dad doesn’t know. He just </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinks</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’m queer. If he really knew, he’d kill me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s...kind of messed up.” Noam pulled away, but was still holding his hand. He felt like his heart was going to explode with the touch. “How are you so, like, happy all of the time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe didn’t know how to answer the question because he wasn’t. But at least faking it worked. “I think about other things. I think about getting away from my dad, about having my own place. About…” he stretched out the pause, swallowing a deep dose of fear, “about having a boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noam dipped his head down and kissed him again. It was a light peck and he pulled back quickly. “It sucks that you’re moving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Poe needed another reason to hate who he was, the timing of all of this was gaining ground on topping all of the other shitty parts of his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, um, do you want to make out or something?” He didn’t want to be awkward but he also didn’t want to miss his chance. “While I’m still here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clumsy hands framed his face and Noam was kissing him again. They stumbled to his bed and Noam pulled him on top of him. Shit, shit, shit, what was he supposed to do? He tried to deepen the kiss, but was met with teeth. Then Noam seemed to get it and opened his mouth. He shuddered, feeling the other tongue brush against his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe let his body guide him and rolled his hips, getting closer to Noam. He felt the other boy shudder beneath him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting hard,” Noam whispered, pulling away. “And I don’t know what to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting up, Poe tried to nod. “We can stop. I mean, I don’t want to. I’ve never made out with anyone before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me neither.” Noam smiled. It was burnt onto his soul in an instant. “Kiss me again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he did. He wanted this feeling to keep going, to have the touches etched onto his skin forever. Noam was touching his hair, getting better at kissing with every second. He gripped his ass, pulling him closer and making him hiss. This was too much. This was what he’d thought about when he jerked off. This and more. He could try to blow him. He’d seen it in porn but had no idea how that would work in real life. He could also jerk him off. If he did that, then maybe he wouldn’t forget him when he moved and he’d still text him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noam’s legs wrapped around him and Poe shuddered. The kissing was getting more intense, the feelings were getting too much. It was going too fast. He was touching him and they were together and it was just too great. Oh shit, oh no…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck, I’m coming.” He pulled back, trying to push him away. “Shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The euphoria made his voice break and he felt a heavy wetness warm his jeans. He was sitting back, gasping and trying to catch his breath, not able to look at the other boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noam was looking at him was a soft blush on his cheeks. “Fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He was just tingling, still lost. He took several long and deep breaths, filling the silent room. Noam shifted on the bed and Poe finally swallowed. “I can’t...I can’t go home like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rubbed at the visible stain on his jeans and shook his head. He shut his eyes, not able to look at Noam in that moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noam reached out, taking his hand for a second before letting go. “Um. You can borrow some of my clothes. We should...probably go back downstairs. Take whatever you want. I’ll see you down there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still couldn’t look at him, but he nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he was alone, he took off his boxers and jeans. He crumpled them into a ball, still knowing that he’d take them home. Rifling through Noam’s clothes he grabbed the shabbiest boxers and a pair of jogging pants. He had to roll up the cuffs. That realization made him determined to go home in that instant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved his clothes into his backpack and quietly left without telling anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noam never texted him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he left Florida for Connecticut feeling heartbroken and ashamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They got a flat tire somewhere in North Carolina. Poe couldn’t get the bolts to come undone quick enough for dad and he smacked him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dropped the wrench, Poe stood to scream at him. “I’m trying to help! If you want to do it alone then do it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to storm off, but dad was quicker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they checked in at the hotel, the lady at the desk gave him a sympathetic look. The black eye stung but her fucking face made it hurt more.</span>
</p><h4>
  <b>-=-</b>
</h4><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their house was too big. His room was massive, looking even more empty without furniture.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, we can’t afford this.” He turned and looked at her. “Can we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tried to smile, running her hands through his hair. “We can now, sweet pea. This is a new start. I got your dad a job there too. It’s going to be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad wasn’t a pharmacist. Dad was just going to be scrubbing toilets. And he’d hate it and he’d quit soon enough. The panic that fille Poe’s chest made him want to cry; everything lately made him feel that way. The streets here were too clean; something was going to go wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I really have to sleep on the floor tonight?” Another sore point prodded at his sadness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom looked down at him and sighed. “We will get it fixed soon. It won’t be long. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t get a bed until two months later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then a month after that, dad quit the job that mom had got him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His teachers watched his grades turn into garbage and show up to school looking roughed up and never did anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But at least he had new friends. They would take care of him, enjoying his jokes and ability to navigate the new school like he’d always been there. He could make that work anywhere. Even feeling like he couldn’t breathe at home, he could always find someone who was just as alone as he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever Connecticut meant to him in that first year, it all boiled down to hurt. He always found boys who liked him, but never as much as he liked them. They’d jerk one another off, gasping and coming like the moments were taking too long. He tried to get better at going down on others, to make them feel good, but they never offered to do the same. It would feel perfect in the seconds of passion, like there was really someone else out there who cared, someone who might fix him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they’d always ignore him afterwards. Cold shoulders, dark stares. He’d try to double down, embarrassing himself to try to win them over. And the rejection would just burn deeper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was what he was so shameful?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad almost caught him once. He didn’t see anything real but must have guessed that they weren’t just hanging out. People didn’t hang out with their shirts off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He missed three weeks of school with a concussion after that. He tried to reach out to the group in Florida but talking on the phone just felt empty. So he stopped calling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And things got even darker. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know when it started, but the headache wouldn’t leave him and the tears were harder to hold in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom went away for a while, leaving him feeling betrayed. She’d left him behind, reminding him that he had a duty to love his father. He was only fourteen. And he fucking hated his father. Every emotion was wound into a tight ball of rage and darkness that he didn’t want to have inside of him. He liked being happy and hated himself even more for not being able to be happy. He’d lie in his bed, after pushing his dresser against the door, and want to cry but couldn’t. It just felt like nothing. It made the hairs on his arms stand on end as the coldness from his heart spread up to his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The numbness would still be there at school. He’d let the other boys tease him, not really hearing it before, when he could snap back. Now, he heard the words and they didn’t hurt, despite their cruelty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It scared him to feel nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Food tasted like nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was turning into nothing. He was a puddle, a smudge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t look at himself in the mirror. Whatever he’d see, it wouldn’t be him. He was disappearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The weeks without mom stretched on and he didn’t even care enough to be afraid. He wanted his father to hurt him. He wanted everything to vanish in one strike. He’d purposely get into arguments, snipping at everything dad said or did. The slaps or punches, or bruising grips on his arms, would light him upside but only for a moment. The blackhole would suck all the feelings of being alive away in a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to find another way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swiped a package of razor blades from work. He felt invisible there and could finally use it to his advantage. He’d heard other kids at group saying that it helped, even though it shouldn’t, and he just wanted something, anything to make things seem brighter. Dr Casterfo had said why it felt that way; you were in control of your pain in the moment. But there were better ways to feel power over feelings and situations, even when there didn’t seem to be a way out. The moment wasn’t forever and pain could be fought through healthier, kinder ways. Talk to someone, get out of your head, all of that. But hugging a pillow felt just stupid at that moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking dad would see anywhere that he’d cut. He’d see his arms, he’d see his legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked a spot above one of the new bruises along his ribs and dragged the blade across his skin. It was just a scratch; nothing felt different. Frustration guided his hand further. He forced the blade deeper and gasped at the sting. Shuddering, he saw a dot of light through the darkness. It was like nothing could ever go wrong again, like he could breathe and was alive. His hand held the key.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He exhaled as his hand shook, watching droplets of blood snake down his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt freeing but there was also shame swimming with those feelings. He was aware of his emotions, the bitter satisfaction of being in control, but it was because of doing the wrong thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom would see when they’d go to the beach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But if mom could abandon him, then maybe he could hurt her too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The darkness of that thought made the next cut rush harder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he gave into the temporary release for his loneliness until mom came back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d dry the blood and toss the tissues out the window, letting nature dissolve his mistakes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he met Daniel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he felt lifted again and the shame of wanting to hurt himself, when there were still so many wonderful things and people in the world, hurt more than any of the cuts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that didn’t mean he felt like stopping if things ever got like that again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Daniel pulled up his shorts and shifted away from Poe’s desperate hands, his nails tempting to dig into his soft, white skin. He could still taste him as he licked his lips and tried to sit up too so that it wasn’t more awkward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clingy, he was too clingy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was going to lose him, even after what he’d just done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to talk his way out of losing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was that okay?” he asked, trying to smile and adjust himself against the older boy. He was a grade above him but still hung out with him. They’d been so close before tonight and it finally happened. “Because it was really great for me, and if you feel the same I can do it again.” He couldn’t be forgotten again after what he’d just done. He was almost getting good at giving blowjobs. Maybe after a few more times he’d be able to keep someone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poe, that was great but I’m…” he stopped talking and cleared his throat. “I really think I’m straight. And that we should just be friends. I’ve been thinking and…you…I’m, um, thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had already felt his shoulders slumping, but hearing the words again made it hard to fight back showing how gutted he felt. It was like the last few weeks had meant nothing because he never could do anything right. This was how it always went. He was always going to fuck something up. Guys would always go straight on him because he just wasn’t good enough. It was the same in Florida as it was in white-ass Connecticut. He was going to be dumped again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daniel didn’t see his tears, so he swallowed them, tasting each one. “It’s okay, Danny, it was my fault I…but I really liked what we did and maybe…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thunk against his bedroom door made them both shake and Poe scrambled off of the couch for his clothes. Daniel had been so open before, so willing, but then some girl in their class wore a low-cut shirt the other day and suddenly what they were was off the table. It was such a load of garbage, but for Poe he never expected to find anything better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl who’d gone down on him at the party a few weeks ago kept giving him the same looks that he knew he cast at the boys he mooned over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never expected to be invited to that party. It was more like a big sleepover but the girl, Beth, told him how much she liked him. She was almost fifteen but still in his grade. She really wanted to show him how it felt and he came so fast that he was sure he’d disappointed her so he made out with her after. But the entire time he was thinking about Danny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried to quicken his hands, pulling on his clothes but it was never was never fast enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad burst in the door and Poe’s mouth froze in mid-warning to Danny to watch out and, most of all, get out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>are you doing in here?” his father slurred, catching Daniel’s eyes and then locking his focus on Poe. “Who is this? What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting up and straightening his back, Poe switched into Spanish. Danny was shitty at Spanish and couldn’t follow them. He might be able to save this. He could scramble and get something together. «Dad, don’t get mad. We’re just hanging out.»</span>
</p><p>
  <span>«I see what was happening here. Again? Again?! You’re shit. Both of you are shit.» He narrowed his eyes on Daniel. “Get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Daniel was caught in his father’s rage-filled eyes and Poe couldn’t do anything. It was the worst part of being fourteen; he was always caught in his father’s anger. And it had always been that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But maybe not this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>«I’m not shit, you are!» he stood and shouted back. He tried to block Daniel as he was gathering up the rest of his clothes. He puffed out his chest, trying to look taller and bigger than he was. He could do this; this time he could fight back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he knew he was just like his dad said. At the same time, it wouldn’t stop him from being obstinate because fuck this drunk bastard and his bullshit. If he could do it now, then maybe Danny wouldn’t leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The strike against his face knocked him back to the floor. It was always harder each time that it happened. He would always try to remember how it felt, to make the next time softer, but it never worked. He landed hard on his backside, cradling his mouth and tasting blood. Danny couldn’t even meet his eyes when he tried to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, man, fuck this and fuck you.” Daniel snatched up his backpack and bolted for the backdoor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alone with his father, Poe dared to look up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>«We’re moving. Pack your things.»</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if his dad would give him more information. As if his dad would be so clear. He wiped at his mouth and kept his eyes low. He could still prod him, anger him. That fucker was born in this country and still talked like he’d learned English yesterday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hard slap made him gasp and force his head lower. His father loomed over him, glaring before he backed off. His shoulders slumped and he fought off crying. Showing sorrow just proved that he was weak and as worthless as he felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should really stop asking questions and trying to find anything that made him happy. He’d just end up screwing it up in some way if his mouth kept running and he didn’t find the right people to impress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, life sucked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t hate it but sometimes it could just really suck sometimes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a fucking big-ass school, but nothing like the ones he’d stumbled into in Florida. His last school here had been small and lame but at least there he could get to know everyone. This one would mean he’d be faceless but not where it counted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ones back home would be in poorer areas, more people like him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell </span>
  </em>
  <span>was dad doing? They couldn’t afford this. Did mom get a promotion and not tell him? Is that why they moved? But they were further away from her work. This was clear across town. He was too far from his friends to ever be allowed to see them again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could text them. He’d already been texting them. But none of them ever wanted to hang out at his new place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever this side of town was, it felt like bad news.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sinking his head, lurking outside, he realized why he was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad could escape the cops. Mom could catch her breath. And their shitty son could be thrown into faking it until he made it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, he missed Florida. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His clothes looked like garbage compared to all of these preppy kids. How could they even find a rental in that neighborhood? It was another thing to add to his reasons about why he wanted to die again: first, his dad was an asshole; second, he was crap at school at anything that mattered; third, he was a loser who couldn’t keep a boy who cared about him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of that somehow made it easier to lift his head. Everything in his head wasn’t so big and it wasn’t forever. The words from group still broke through the murkiness. He’d call the helpline most of the time just to hear familiar voices. Just a few more years and he could be on his own, earning more money and hopefully he could go back to some place warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eyed the entrance again and shrugged, trying to make his hoodie feel warmer. The rest of the kids had proper winter coats. He had only known cold since moving to Connecticut and then dad had thrown out a bunch of his stuff when they moved. His good coat had been amongst the trashed things from his room. Layering. He had to remember that when more snow came in January.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He longed for sun and sand. He missed his friends and family. Fuck dad for dragging them out there and using mom as an excuse for his mistakes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever. They’d probably be moving again soon so he shouldn’t be that worried; hopefully they’d end up somewhere that didn’t suck as much as expensive-ass Connecticut. Dad would fuck this up soon enough and he’d drag him across the country again. Maybe California? He would always rant about people he knew in California.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe carried himself into school like he belonged there because </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck everyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was just another batch of teachers to suck up to so he could pass. Another group of students who would think he was less than them, but then again maybe he was. But if he pretended he was better than them, then maybe they’d start to believe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked up to the front office and tried to lose the anger and look a little pathetic. Not too much, but just enough to earn a little sympathy. He was good at that, after all. Ladies who worked in school offices always thought he was cute up until he got in trouble for fighting; they wouldn’t listen that he was just fighting </span>
  <em>
    <span>back </span>
  </em>
  <span>so he’d almost given up that argument. Better to get the most out of it now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman at the office complained loudly about transferring late in the term, but they didn’t have much of a choice. He had to just roll with it, but he couldn’t ignore the mistake when he was handed his schedule for the next term already. He’d just be sitting in for these classes, but in January, it would all start for real. He didn’t know who he could talk to if they started switching things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I don’t mean to sound like you guys made a mistake, but this isn’t freshman physics.” He pointed out the error, meeting the woman’s already annoyed look. “Look, I’m not complaining but…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We looked at your grades from this term and there’s more space in that class. You’ll do well in that class.” She turned away from him and he took a step back, shrugging. “Just try to follow along in these courses and ignore anything about final grades or exams. We will work out the credit situation once you get settled in. And when the next term starts, you’ll be on the same page as everyone else. If you need the counselor, she’s always here for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a pathetic way of saying that he wasn’t wanted there, but had fallen into their laps by changing school districts. Fine. Another reason to add to the lists of why he should give up only to strike it when he looked past his anger towards the future. Always take the step forward, Casterfo would say. Don’t fall back. Get angry but never blame yourself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been like this since they’d moved there. He had to make lists of good things to keep the bad from overwhelming him, turning him into a smudge again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom’s job had gone so well in the beginning. Dad had left her in peace, looking for his odd jobs after he quit her company. He’d hang out at the lots like they were actually illegals, letting him take the identity that he always wanted: he’d been wronged in life and needed a reason to feel lousy. As long as he wasn’t dealing drugs again then it would be okay. Why the hell did he need to do that? Dad could work hard too. It hadn’t been all bad where they used to live. But Poe was starting to realize that dad had made them move again because of Danny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Danny didn’t even want him, so what was the point?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe dad was tired of their old neighbours complaining about his crying and the constant screaming. The police seemed to be getting tired of being called too. Lying to CPS was almost routine for him at that point. Dad just wanted to get them out of the house and away from the shit he had hidden in the garage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just so tired. And having a new school to deal with made him want to find a quiet moment to make it all feel better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was still there, in that office, faking being normal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine, whatever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was in the middle of shoving the schedule into his backpack when he noticed another boy lurking in the doorway. He quirked his head as the boy finally straightened his shoulders and approached the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dark hair, dark eyes, tall and growing into it. His hair curled around his face; the delicate strands made Poe want to reach out right there and run his hands through them. A strong nose and pale skin. The way he carried himself gave away a hidden confidence, but it was like he was trying to ignore it. Just staring at the back of his head, looking down his back to his ass, made Poe forget where he was and what he’d been thinking about before. Christ, he was beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning against the wall, Poe stared at his ass without embarrassment. He had a chance and he was going to take it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mrs. Seastriker? I’m supposed to give you this.” He dropped a piece of paper on the front desk and folded his arms, his black sweater stretching as he moved. “Earlier this time. Because I don’t want to get in trouble in January. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Again</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why was he angry? Poe kept pretending to zip up his backpack, then dropped down to fake like he was going to tie his shoe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>what else could he do to stay there?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, thank you, Ben. How is therapy going? You’re not in here as often anymore.” The woman behind leaned forward, smiling at him. Poe had glanced up to catch the look and then quickly shifted his eyes down to his shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Therapy? Why was this guy in therapy? There wasn’t anything wrong with him. Great hair, great ass. He was a dream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s going.” The boy, Ben, shrugged. “I’m going to be late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning, he locked eyes with Poe. It was a hard pair of dark, brown eyes, installed in a face that made Poe suck in a breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was frozen, kneeling there until he stood up, holding his backpack like an idiot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy, Ben, glared at him, a harsh look that burned into his mind and sent his back rigid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, hi.” He squeaked out the sounds. “I’m…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned and left, striding out into the hallway and disappearing into the sea of other students. Poe could finally catch his breath and start coming up with a plan to at least speak to the boy again. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I like your coat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blonde girl turned and smiled at him. “Thanks! It’s brand new. And it’s designer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really, which one?” Poe asked, leaning against her locker. She had pictures of her friends on the inside and he spotted the boy from before, frowning in several of them. “Maybe I know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, as if. Boys don’t care about that shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words were offensive on another level but whatever, let her have her moment of thinking less than him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been there for a week. He had his friends. He knew his teachers. Now, he was back working at his goal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jess and Snap had told him pretty much who was who and who to avoid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the top of their list was Ben Solo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I care? Come on, try me. I know a lot of stuff. I used to live in Florida. Is it Gucci?” That was the only name he knew. He heard it on television and he’d only been half listening. Despite what dad thought, not everybody who was gay knew everything about clothes. He still hoped it was a good guess. He saw the symbol and could see it from her stance that it was the right one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, almost grinning, she nodded. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I guess you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>know stuff. And I’m guessing that you’re new here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, kind of.” He folded his arms to avoid shaking her hand. “I’m Poe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Liza.” She flipped her hair. The blonde strands cascaded over her shoulders and she would have been cute until she almost sneered at him. “Where are you from? Oh wait, didn’t you just say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah Florida, but we’ve been in town for a while. Just a new school.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He forced himself to make small talk with her, waiting by the locker that belonged to his true goal. He’d figured out where and when to be by then. This school wasn’t any different than all of the others. He could find friends: Jess and Snap understood him or at least understood who he was trying to be. His teachers thought he was energetic and cared about the subjects. Boy, would they be disappointed. But just by being cute and having clear skin, the other girls already liked him and he could sit with them at lunch. His dark-haired goal also had perfect skin. He hadn’t seen it in a while, but he needed to be close to him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to keep complimenting the blonde idiot, who wasn’t actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad so he should cut her a break, to have an excuse to hang out there so long. Where was he? Why was he late? He was going to miss his bus and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, finally, Mr. Raven-coloured hair and sad eyes turned the corner into their hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he had to will himself to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked right by him. The blonde girl reached out and touched his shoulder and he flinched away from her, glaring at them both as he put on his coat and left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, I hate it when he’s like that,” Liza complained before applying lipgloss. She smacked her lips together and smirked at Poe. “I’m totally going to be his girlfriend by the summer. I’ve got it all planned out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course. Of course he’d have an almost girlfriend. “But you’re just friends with him right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kylo doesn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>friends, but I guess we are. Me and Paige. There used to be more people in the group but Hux got to keep them when him and Kylo stopped being best friends or broke up or whatever,” she paused to fix her coat, “It’s like, weird, complicated stuff that I don’t really understand. But it’s hard to understand anything about Kylo since he got back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” He snapped his attention away from his growing list of mental notes. “I thought his name was Ben.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, he’s Ben Solo. The murder kid. But he makes us all call him Kylo. It’s a cool name, I guess.” She shrugged. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the bus home, he realized that he lived under a rock when he started going through the news reports about Ben Solo online: who he was, what he’d been through. It was gruesome and horrifying and he had to shut off his phone after reading about how he was the only survivor, other than an unidentified four-year-old girl, by some death-cult guy. What had happened to him? No wonder everyone and everything pissed him off. He’d been surrounded by death and didn’t know any better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he was friends with the blonde girl and the cute dark-haired girl. He didn’t really talk to anyone else, but that’s who he sat with at lunch. And the orange-haired guy, Hugs, apparently hated him. And he was on the wrestling team. But he’d also been tortured for seven years by a honest-to-God serial killer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How was his person still standing? And have after-school activities? And go to </span>
  <em>
    <span>school</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s all the information Poe had to go on before Christmas break. He got to write some make-up exams in a closed classroom and was pretty sure he flunked most of them because he couldn’t get his head to clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at Kylo long and hard on the last day of school across the hallway, feeling a combined sense of wanting to know more and wanting to forget him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How he moved, how he acted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was someone so broken, but was also putting the pieces together. He could smile, but it was rare. Even as he digested the last looks he had of him, he realized that it was something that was impossible to forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next term, he’d have a real hold on things. Next term, he’d have to do school for real, not just look at people and try to figure out what they wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he had to get on that team. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like it always did, school and real life combined into one misery ball. He’d only seen Kylo one or two times since then and now he had to start his new job and it was a big ball of suck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was miserable in the car when dad dropped him off at the grocery store.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will be good work. Get used to working hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why? You don’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He bit back the bitter reply and nodded at his father instead. He slammed the door shut and walked in through the big doors. They snapped shut behind him and he wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was too early.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched dad drive away and shut his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been hired at the first interview, on the spot. It made mom and dad proud, or at least that’s what they </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he wanted the earth to swallow him up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, at least the manager liked him. Hopefully he could stay on her good side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She found him in his lost state in the entrance as the automatic doors kept opening and closing with every step that he took.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve done this before? Bagging groceries?” Tess asked him as she brought him to the register. Why was this all he was good for? Dad had fudged his age at his last job but he still did it. Now, at least, he was doing legit work and mom had got him a bank account that dad couldn’t touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am. Like I had on my resume.” He looked up to nod at the clerk. She eyed him, then smiled. Okay, he could get away with so much shit by being cute and he hated that he knew that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, then it’s the standard procedure…” he kept listening as Tess repeated the same instructions that she must have given a thousand times. She didn’t look happy to be middle aged, overweight, and stuck telling teenagers what to do. What made it worse was that they probably didn’t listen; well, he was good at listening. He could make it up to her. She had a good smile and a happy face button on her shirt. She was probably okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He adjusted his name badge. At least he’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>trainee </span>
  </em>
  <span>for a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d explained the duties and the breaks before the shift, back in the tiny breakroom. No phone unless he was on break. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no one to text anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have Jess or Snap’s numbers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needed to give himself another week before he wanted to start cutting again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mom?” He finally got the courage on the day before the break was over. His mom had managed to get him a new winter coat, but not much else. He’d bought her new placemats for the kitchen table, something that would make the place look more like home. He gave dad a card.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt lower than grime asking her for money. The job at the grocery store paid peanuts and he already hated it. Dad had set it up, he slowly came to realize in his couple of weeks there. Telling him to get a job or get out was an empty threat. Where else was he supposed to go? There was no one here. There were no aunties or uncles. No grandma. He worked there, taking shifts over Christmas and got garbage pay because he was too afraid to talk back and ruin this chance. But at least he knew the manager good by now. She liked him because he showed up on time and let the little old ladies pinch his ass. He had that down. Maybe he’d get rewarded for shutting up for once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then there was mom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was staring out the window, holding her coffee cup with her wrapped-up wrist. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad had made Christmas day its usual shitshow. What else had he been expecting?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he had to press forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need um,” he frowned, sitting across from her. He shifted his weight and smoothed his hair. “I need some money to join the wrestling team.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She almost smiled. It was the closest thing to seeing mom really happy. She hadn’t been happy when they left Florida. She hadn’t been happy when they moved this time. He had no idea about her job because she didn’t talk about it even when he asked. He really meant it and she still didn’t say anything. Dad had taken control of the bank accounts, like the asshole he was. But she actually looked verging on content when he’d asked the question. It made Poe feel a little more confident, like he wasn’t fucking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, she put a finger up to her mouth. He quirked his head, watching her reach for the painting by the window. She opened the picture frame and took out a handful of bills. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, mom, no, he wanted to say. That was their running away money, the money that she hid from dad. He didn’t need to take it because he had a crush on a boy. Why did he ask? Why was he so stupid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much?” she asked, counting out the bills.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what? On second thought, I don’t really need it. I mean, I would just be gone and there would be no one here to protect you. And we should really just keep saving so we…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poe.” Her voice was serious, the same mom voice that told him not to eat so much because they wouldn’t have enough to eat the next day. “How much?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just $400. I have the rest saved from work and can keep saving to pay for the road trips and practices and stuff and I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She handed him half the money from the pile and smiled, a real smile. She’d counted it out and it was exactly as much as he needed. Her face looked so much happier when she smiled. It was like the ones he remembered when he was small and they had nothing. He’d always have her smile even if he were cold, hungry, and afraid. Like back when they were sleeping in the car and mom would sing him to sleep, keeping him warm. He slowly realized how much mom tried and how it was always dad who fucked it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can always come to me if you need more.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hung the picture again and went back to looking at her cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poe’s chest ached when he handed Coach Canady the money and his permission form the first day of sign ups. Now he just had to get through try outs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he had practice dodging stronger hands trying to hold him down.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Dragging his feet, Poe sighed at the hallway that would take him to sophomore physics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys, just kill me. Why did they put me in this class?” He let his head drop back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least Snap laughed. Jess folded her arms and shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it’s something you’re good at, you shouldn’t complain.” Jess swished her dark hair, reminding him that he had both friends and had been deemed worthy of walking down that hallway. So what if everyone in that grade seemed to already hate him? So what if Snap and Jess were in another class? So what if they were the only friends he’d managed to make so far?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d hung out last night at Snap’s house, easily falling into quick camaraderie on the return from break. Really, he had been looking for an excuse not to go home and was surprised by finding true friends in the end. It had been nice to be indoors too. They mostly talked about music and movies. Poe had kept quiet about signing up for the team after Jess went into a full-on rant about all of the jocks in their school. All of them. Especially weirdo Ben Solo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was second-to-last period and he really didn’t want to suffer through the rest of his classes. It was cold, too cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he shrugged. “Yeah, right. What do I have to complain about? I’ll see you guys later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned without wanting to hear a reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dawdling in the doorway, he shifted his weight and tried to work himself up to confidence. He wouldn’t be there if they didn’t think he should be. He deserved to be there. Just walk in and own it. Physics was something he was actually good at so he wouldn’t look like a dumbass all the time. Or at least he wouldn’t have to fake looking like he knew what he was doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone in the room was older than him and all he knew was to lift his chin and act like he was supposed to be there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was instantly knocked back when he spotted Kylo sitting at one of the tables. And the seat beside him was empty. Really, what was he expecting? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d only spotted him a couple of times since break ended. He stuck to his friends. He always wore black. He never smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just seeing him there made him clench his hands around his notebook.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hung in the back of the classroom, staring at the empty seat beside him. It felt so tempting. He just had to walk up to him and sit down. The term had just started. There was still snow in the air and everyone was freezing all of the time. All he had to do was sit down and they’d be lab partners all term. January to June. Just them. Talking about homework. Talking about other things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But really, he’d only seen the guy a handful of times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he’d still risked so much. He couldn’t wrestle to save his life and the tryouts and practice were that week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should just go up to him and sit down, be like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hey how’s it going, I know no one here. Show me around? Hey, what do you like? Oh yeah, I like that too. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’s where his mind took him. Watching the fantasy play out in his mind, he tilted his head and licked his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, he was going to do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Totally going to do it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Any second now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he moved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But his feet were too slow, shuffling at the last minute, and the dark-haired girl sat down beside him. Swearing to himself, he swallowed and took the empty table at the back of the room to glare at the back of her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was the one that he always hung out with. The Asian girl. The one who Liza knew. The cute one. Liza wasn’t cute but this girl did something to Kylo that he didn’t expect. His hopes were crushed twice in the same moment. Kylo looked at her and smiled, seemingly relieved that no one else took the seat. It was more of a smirk than a smile, but it was still something different. A hint of kindness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hi,” a brunette girl said, taking the seat next to him and fixing her glasses. “You’re new.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, hey,” he said, snapping his head away from his regret. “I’m Poe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ami.” She smiled, moving her chair forward. He should have offered to do it for her. “Have you had this teacher before? Mr Mundi? He’s really weird but can be nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh really? Good to know.” It was hard not to look at Kylo as the chatter in the classroom continued. “I’m just a freshman so I’m really out of my league here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amy eyed him and then nodded. “I’m pretty okay at physics. We can help each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. That would be greatness.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he had to do was smile at her and he could see hearts in her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His lab partner ended up being a quiet girl who was also afraid of everyone. They snuck in conversations as their teacher, another boring, white-haired old man, droned on and on about lab reports and weekly quizzes. By the end of the period, he’d gotten her to smile more and hoped that they would be friends by the end of the term. He had tried to ask her about Ben Solo and she had just looked at him with wide eyes and shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben Solo was a weirdo. He could be nice but he was mostly strange and quiet and got into so many fights the last few years, since he got back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He killed kids, Poe,” Amy’s voice had been quiet, and not just the hushed-classroom tone. “He really killed them and everyone is afraid of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was pretty sure he hadn’t, but he didn’t argue. He just nodded his dumb head and tried to change the subject back to homework and how the next term would go. She easily melted into every grin and he was sure that she hadn’t noticed how he had kept glancing at Kylo the entire time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The more he knew about the other boy, the more curious he got. It wasn’t just a puzzle. Kylo or Ben or whatever had so much more to him; it wasn’t just putting one piece together and then getting an answer. He needed more information before he saw the whole picture. It seemed like he walked into a room and it went quiet. He could sigh and everyone would hear it. And still as far as Poe knew, he had only two friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he had a sweet smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was stuck on that smile even as Jess and Snap joked in the next class. He could feel Jess’s eyes on him when he started doodling meaningless things in his notebook. Most of them looked like hearts but he scribbled over them when he felt her eyes on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a class with him. The world didn’t have to end if he didn’t get on the team, but he sort of wanted to now. Spread out the chances, something about eggs and baskets or whatever.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dad stared at him during dinner. He could tell he’d been drinking the entire day and kept his head down to try not to say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was school?” mom asked, her tone even.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice made him lift his head and measure his reply. “It was good. I have homework to do but it was good. I like the school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sneak in a compliment. Talk level. That’s all he had to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We moved here so you could go to that school,” dad muttered and then took a long sip of beer. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blank. His face had to stay blank. “I do like it. Thanks dad. The teachers are really good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> in school or just fuck around?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad was really looking for a fight tonight. He hated the cold too. It was even worse than warmth. “I’m going to try. I also joined the wrestling team. So I’m going to try sports.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made dad smile. Fuck you dad. “Good. Sports will make you a man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom had snapped quiet, keeping her head down. She was just smiling and picking at her food. She needed to eat more. She was too thin. He could see a bruise on her neck when her shawl slipped and it made him clench the fork in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quietly, he kept eating until his plate was empty. He was still hungry but he just wanted dinner to be over with so he could go to his room and think about something better, something happier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom moved to clear the table and dad’s hand shot out, gripping her arm hard. “Let him do it. He’s so lazy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, mom looked at him. The panic in her eyes had him in motion in a second. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then dad dragged her out of the room and he ran the water the entire time he did the dishes to drown out what was happening in the next room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mom had been crying when she came in to check on him later. She didn’t say anything. She just ran her hand through his hair and clicked off the light.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Sitting on the edge of the mat after hearing that he made the team left him a little stunned. Sure, he’d watched several hours of amateur wrestling for any hint of an idea of what to do. Sure, he’d basically just made the team because they needed more kids in his weight class. And yeah, he’d also volunteered to do the shit jobs for the team when he could. None of it mattered. He’d done something he’d never expected he’d do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But every time he opened his mouth, he caught a glare from Kylo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Coach and the other guys called him that. Most of them were tall, strong, and pretty stupid. He was utterly doomed if there was hazing unless he tossed the first punch. God, he should have listened to Snap and Jess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not very good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought he was alone in the gym, biding his time before he packed up the mats when coach got back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning, he saw Kylo staring him down. He’d changed already, but his hair was only damp, not wet. He’d gone into the locker room with the others but no one else was done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smirking, he shrugged. “Still made the team, doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kylo hadn’t said anything during the entire process. He sat away from the other guys and read most of the time. Yeah, he was a weird guy. But at least he was talking to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re never going to win any match with your technique.” Kylo stepped closer, staring down at him. “It’s not even technique. What are you doing?” The look and the words didn’t sit well in his chest so he forced himself to stand. Kylo already was almost a head taller than he was. He hadn’t noticed that before. The distance had skewed how he really looked. Clear skin, broad shoulders, and one lock of hair that sat lazily on his forehead. But how he was standing told him all he had to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that why you join a team? To get better technique? Like with training and stuff. I haven’t had a chance to see you yet so how do I know that your technique is good or whatever. Who knows if you suck or not too?” He couldn’t back down, even though his heart was rapid in his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won every match last season.” Kylo’s eyes narrowed. “What does that tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That maybe you only got people who sucked and have never gone up against anyone good? That it’s all just luck?” He cocked a grin and saw Kylo’s eyes almost spark with anger. “And maybe our district sucks. Who knows? There are dozens of reasons why…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know a thing about this do you?” Kylo cut him off and took another step forward to keep glaring down at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really but everything has got a trick to it.” He moved forward, daring Kylo to bump against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kylo sucked in a long breath and held his eyes. The stare went on forever, stretching on until Poe finally relented and took a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I don’t know what your problem is…” he started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, he saw Kylo smirk to himself then drop his face to blank. “My problem right now is you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he stalked out of the gym, almost knocking into coach as he went. His shoes didn’t even squeak against the floor even as he was storming away. Rolling his eyes, Poe ran a hand through his hair and gave Canady a shrug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was he giving you trouble?” The gruff man asked, starting to kick up the edge of the mats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, not really.” He was already trying to take in everything from the encounter: how Kylo looked, smelt, moved. There was so much there. He couldn’t lose a second of it. “Is he really as good as he says he is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Canady motioned for him to help fold up the mats and he moved to his side. “He’s very talented. He learns quickly but...he doesn’t get along with anyone. Don’t let him intimidate you. Hopefully, once he works through more of his things, he’ll be a real leader.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he’s got, like, potential?” Poe asked as the first mat fell together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of you have it,” Canady said. “Even you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Narrowing his eyes at coach’s back, he swallowed the sarcastic tone and silently finished helping him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever kept him out of the locker room until everyone else was gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-=-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was cold and miserable on the bus. He felt the same way. He’d get in a couple of hours and drag himself home to sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d made the team and Kylo had talked to him. Sure, Kylo didn’t exactly like him but he’d stood so close to him that he could almost feel how warm he was. It was a good feeling. It had to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he looked at his hands long and hard as he was sitting in the breakroom before getting out on the floor. He’d changed, read some homework, and now he just wanted his brain to stop going over the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shoes in the doorway and the sound of the door opening made him snap a smile on his face. “Hey Tess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His manager smiled at his greeting and glanced at her watch. “You’re early. Everything okay at home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, everything’s great.” Lying with a grin was getting easier with each passing day. By the time he was an adult he’d have it all sorted out. “Hey, I needed to talk to you about my schedule.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He showed the older woman the wrestling team’s schedule and tried to look as eager as possible about being on the team and still keeping as many hours as he could get. Tess took the paper and looked at him genuinely, promising him that they’d work it out as best they could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throughout his entire shift, he was quietly praying that things would go his way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
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